PSOH 'One Afternoon'
by tigersilver
Summary: A loose continuation based on previously upped 'One Morning'. MPREG and Hurt/Comfort: what's more fun that that, I ask you?


One Afternoon

D lay stock still in the middle of the bed, his face paler than the sheets crumpled beneath him, eyes wide and glassy, unblinking. It was silent, except for the faint heave of his breathing and the slight rustle of his fingernails, tremulous on the comforter. Tetsu and Honlon had ducked out of the room after heaving him off the bathroom floor, sliding him into a clean robe and then carefully onto the bed. A grim-faced Honlon had given him water to sip and he'd rinsed his mouth, but the coppery taste lingered …_and he could not bear to give in to the sickening, lurching dizziness that had claimed him twenty minutes before. _

Time had slowed to an ant's march, the ticking seconds pinching D's tight skin, trickling like spider-lightning through his chest and belly. If he'd the muscle control to pull enough air into his starved lungs, at least enough to speak, he would have done so, but he could only just manage to curl his stiff, dry tongue around two syllables.

"_Le...on_."

The cry was soundless, echoing only in the upheaval of D's mind. More a wish than any noise that would actually draw attention. His effort had not even been enough to disturb the fine flow of air around him. Not surprisingly, nothing happened.

_Ah, well._

He would lie here and breathe. It was likely all he could do, right now.

Leon had gone out, something he did very rarely. He had his cell phone, D knew, but the thought of rising and going to telephone was not something he was capable of contemplating at this moment. The telephone was in the parlor and that seemed miles away. He ached, bone-deep, the subsonic pain punctuated with slashes that burned and stabbed. His internal organs were writhing, churning; twisting themselves into new and painful shapes. If he closed his eyes, it became much worse, for then vertigo and motion-sickness swirled into the dark chaos; he'd realized that quite quickly when he first collapsed onto the bed, limp and speechless with pain. T-chan and Honlon had not asked questions; he was sure they knew, and probably well before he had. They would stay away now, respecting another animal's need for privacy.

But D wanted company – he wanted Leon's comforting presence,_ here_, _now_, so much so that a tear slipped down his chalky cheekbone, soaking immediately into the pillow.

He did not _want_ to have to call out or make an effort– Leon should simply be _here_, holding D's hand, bathing his pale brow in lavender water, worried and anxious and loving. But wishing did not make it so. It never had, in those years without him.

He would lie here and wait, then. Leon was never gone long.

D could almost count on all his fingers the number of times the Detective had ventured out of the Shop by himself in the last two years. Eight times? Nine? There had been clothes-shopping and the purchase of the laptop. Leon had brought home gifts every time – pastries and tartes, tortes and éclairs, even Belgian chocolates last Valentine's Day. A potted orchid once, a lovely thing that had surprised D and then delighted him. Coffee beans and a grinder. New sneakers, once a year.

That was all, those few times. Oddly, he had no absolutely no hesitation when it came to going out with D - Leon accompanied him to the shops almost daily and they had seen films and the opera and even gone to an amusement park once - but the man was still strangely reluctant to leave on his own. D had reassured him repeatedly that the Shop would still be here, that _he _would still be here, but Leon only shrugged and smiled, avoiding the issue.

He seemed happy, though, here in the Shop. He had his new-found hobby of sorting and compiling the dusty tomes, diaries, photo albums and leather-bound reference books that each generation of Counts had kept up so religiously. D had quietly made a few adjustments to the environs of the Shop, allowing the laptop and Leon's cell to function so his dear detective had digital access to the outside world. They still did not own a television and Leon hadn't asked for one. There was the recently discovered weight room down the hall and the door next to that opened to the sea if Leon wanted exercise or privacy. For company they had each other and the Pets, as well as the clients who came and went. The Detective apparently enjoyed very much his self-proclaimed role of 'guard-dog', although D sometimes felt that he overplayed it. His clients were for the most part utterly harmless these days – D had taken his lesson to heart.

Leon _was_ content with his new life, D was certain. Fairly certain. Well, thus far, at least. Two years was a very long time to a human – it seemed much shorter to the Count. He had worried about it at first, when it was all brand-new and he woke often in the night, terrified every time that the bed would be empty…and then again, much more recently. If…if this was only a 'phase,' then Leon might move past it, grow bored with his self-imposed boundaries. Human males were not, by nature, monogamous. Of course, it was useless to worry – the flow of time carried them all forward, willingly or not – but he had been the one to open Pandora's box and discover there were plenty of petty and small emotions nestled right alongside 'love' and 'hope' and 'happiness.'

The exquisite agony had eased a little as he lay pondering his own evolution, drowsy now in the widening pool of early afternoon sunshine. The white of the coverlet and his pale hands glowed golden, honeyed by the light. The borrowed warmth helped greatly, soothing his anxiety, leaching away the tension that had kept his eyes wide and unblinking for so long. If he kept to shallow breaths the pain would subside faster.

D had discovered this last time and he would have put it into practice at onset, but he hadn't had the opportunity. One moment he'd been bent over the sink, washing his face, the next, on the floor, struggling to reach the toilet. He had missed, the first time. He was not sure how long he'd been there before Tetsu found him, but it had seemed an eternity of cold misery and shame.

He would have to feel better than this. Sooner, rather than later. Leon was coming home any moment now and he did not wish to explain the mess or think up an excuse for his condition.

_Explain. _

Or was it _excuse_? Beg pardon for a sin unknowingly committed, perhaps? Or might it be that now was finally the time to tell his faithful lover that something..._unexpected_…had occurred. _Unhoped for_. Truly, he had not hoped for this. He had not known it was there to wish for nor would he have ever dared. Rebirth was meant for the end of a very long life, or when one felt the need to carry on the line. One did not do it for pleasure or joy or as a symbol of an unbreakable bond. Even with the little D knew, he did know _that_.

Well, he would have to tell Leon. Officially, that is. Leon was a detective – there was no possibility D's changes had gone unnoticed. And Leon was attuned to him, often knowing when D was hungry or tired – or horny – well before he did. His dear detective most certainly knew that there was something _different_ about D these days. He'd been poking and prodding and asking leading questions for several weeks now. Thus far, it only served to push D further into his guilt, shore up his unnecessary defenses.

He should call Grandfather first. He had no idea what to expect, what to do. He'd already gone through every diary that might have mention of Father's or Grandfather's _pregnancy_ (was that how it was termed? he was not sure of even that) and had found nothing but long gaps in time. There was nothing recorded, no notes, no clues, only silence and secrecy, even when he delved further back, shuffling Leon's papers back in order so that the detective would hopefully not notice they'd been pawed through.

He knew _nothing_ and he must have answers first. Leon would want that, _need_ that, and D would not face him without at least a few facts in his arsenal. He could barely face him now and he had done nothing wrong. Which wasn't fair or just, but nonetheless…

Leon was…Leon, but even he could not be expected to accept this as just another example of D's 'otherness', his 'magic'. D could not ask for that, too.

D shifted and found he was able to move, albeit very slowly. He would recover much more rapidly if he didn't push too hard at first; perhaps he'd even have enough time to clean the bathroom. It would be better still if he were returned to his usual perfectly-kempt self before Leon arrived…but that might be too much to hope for. He doubted that it could be hidden, this time. It was only that he'd like to keep it to himself for a little longer without the tumult of messy explanations. He didn't wish to deal with a Leon who was upset and confused and concerned…and quite possibly angry. A few more days should make no difference.

A few more days of denying Leon his rightful fatherhood, of lying by omission…of achingly lonely secrecy. Hardly something to look forward to. Probably not good for their child, either.

This really could not be bourn, this knife-edge of uncertainty. _He did not want this – had not ever asked for such a thing!_ He did _not_…but there was no way to go back now. The child was undeniably here, in his painful and increasingly larger abdomen. Leaving Leon was no longer an option – he was too far gone for that. Oblivion and the final death would be preferable if it meant giving up even one second with Leon. This storm within his chest was only nerves and fear – just _emotion_ run rampant. He could deal with that now, at least a little more than before. He would muster up the courage – and it required a great deal, more than he'd ever realized – to wedge this _change_ into their lives and still do all that he could to ensure it did not break them apart. He did not really believe they could be parted, now. In his better moments, when he wasn't nauseous or dizzy or hungry or irked, he was sure that Leon would be overjoyed, that this apparent obstacle would only bring them closer. He _knew_ that, yes, but—

D sat up carefully and drew his knees up. His back ached still from the ebbing tension but he had regained some of his steely flexibility. He clasped his hands round his middle and stared at the distension of his navel, barely outlined in the fine cotton lawn of his robe, pressed taut by his long pale fingers. He felt nearly well again and he relished the return of his strength. The bathroom could be accomplished. He could bathe and change and perhaps even enjoy whatever new gift Leon was sure to present him with.

When he considered it calmly, he really didn't need Grandfather to hold his hand for this. It would be turning back, admitting his weakness, and Grandfather would never let him live that down. Leon would be crucified and D would be humiliated and that was far, far worse than what he faced now. They did not need the interference; had, in fact, firmly thrust it out of their lives. They needed nothing but each other. Two years now and more to come, especially since Leon hadn't aged a day since he stepped into the Shop. Well, perhaps he had…nine days. Amazing, the instincts humans still retained.

D smiled at his belly and hoped his little one would inherit at least some of those, although a few of Leon's other habits might not be suitable. His own abilities were , of course, preferable. The child would need all of D's skill and strength and charm just to understand _who _he was in this world. It would not be particularly easy or comfortable. But D and Leon would be there, right by this child's side, for a very long time, guiding the little one gently until he was ready to let go. And this time there would be no tales of revenge and distrust, no fears or long-held anger thrust into their child's heart. No one would dare force their child into solitude or twist his mind into hatred. Leon would be there to defend him and protect him, send him soaring into the air and catch him when he fell, just as he had with the young Chris. D would be there to comfort him and hug him and show him how to move mountains and step silently and gracefully through the rush of teeming life.

Unknowing, unaware that he had finally relaxed enough, D slept at last, subsiding slowly into the pile of down pillows, his smile remaining even in sleep. His dreams were warm with the sunlight, filled with Leon, blue eyes crinkled into a smile, large hands carefully holding their child. Deep within him, the smallest speck of life stirred and sucked at a neo-thumb, dreaming as well, but of baseball and chocolate, singing dragons and curly-horned young men.

(TBC…)


End file.
